


A Piece of Cake

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Fluff, Food, Its pretty much fluff, M/M, POV Steve Rogers, Stuffing, This is all very mild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 03:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6178204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve learns that the twenty-first century isn't all bad. The food's a lot better, for example.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Piece of Cake

**Author's Note:**

> *possible warning for mention of disordered eating* 
> 
> This is my first fic of this sort, and I worked on it on and off for a few days, but hopefully it's not terrible~

It's a week after the New York alien invasion that he first notices it. The team is having a party - another one, organized by Tony for no apparent reason - in the tower, with a bunch of people Steve's never met in his life, possibly too much food, and loud music. Parties have never interested Steve much, and when they did, he wasn't invited. The serum magically fixed that, somehow, but he still rarely attended them. He only came tonight out of obligation, and Tony's nagging. 

He arrived and greeted a few of the calmer partygoers before going to a secluded corner, sinking down onto one of the many couches that'd been moved into the room. He watches the crowd with vague disinterest for a few minutes before he realises something. 

He's starving. He's used to being hungry, as food was in constant short supply during the war, but this goes beyond ordinary hunger. When did he last eat? Must've been eleven, maybe twelve. It's eight now. 

Steve stands up and scans the room, quickly locating the food table. He awkwardly begins the trek through the crowd, saying 'excuse me' more times than he cares to count. When he finally reaches the table, half-expecting it to be empty, he's a little shocked. There's possibly more sugar here than he's seen in his life, and that's just the food - not mentioning the endless array of soda and alcoholic drinks. 

He grabs an expensive-looking plate and loads it up with a little bit of everything. Neat little sandwiches, fruits, meats, cheeses, cream-filled biscuits, muffins, and a messy-looking, too big slice of cake.

Satisfied, if a little overwhelmed, Steve makes the journey back to his spot, opting to go around the crowd this time instead of through it. He sits back down, leaning back a little, and picks up a ripe strawberry. He's always liked strawberries, if only for the memories connected with them. He and Bucky used to save up their pocket money for weeks to buy sugar between them, and Mrs. Rogers would give them strawberries, and they'd dip them in and-

Steve sighs, pushing down the surge of emotions. Seventy years, he tells himself. It feels like only a few weeks - it's as clear as anything, too, that image of Bucky - Bucky falling. Seventy years. 

He takes a steadying breath and bites into the red fruit. The flavour is intense - much more so than any he's ever tasted - and so sweet that for a moment he almost believes he's back in their small apartment with a bowl of sugar, Bucky laughing by his side. 

He quickly finishes it off and grabs a sandwich. A little small for his liking, but it'll have to do. He takes a cautious bite and, instantly, the same intensity of flavour hits him. He can taste each ingredient - bread, butter, meat - individually, and it's quite a shock. Does Tony have some special kind of food? Steve glances aorund. A few other people are eating, but no one else seems to be having the same experience as him. Huh. Still, it's not a bad thing, and so he continues eating with vigour.

By the time he's finished, a few minutes - and several plate refills - later, his belly is full and satisfied. A little too full, maybe. Steve tugs his shirt down, feeling his cheeks go hot. He didn't mean to overdo it. It just happened - everything was so good, he couldn't resist seconds. And thirds. The cake was especially delicious, and he made sure to get an extra-large slice every time. 

He discreetly rubs his stomach, which gurgles in response, and closes his eyes. God, he hasn't been this full in ages. Scratch that, in ever. It hurts, but at the same time, it feels good. 

Steve makes a mental note to ask Tony where he got that cake. 

+

The serum. It's got to be the serum. Why else would things taste so intense? It's not just Tony's food, Steve's sure of that now. He's been...sampling, and there's no mistake. Food has so much more flavour to it, and he even looks forward to mealtimes.

Why didn't he notice earlier, though? Steve supposes it had something to do with war food. Touring with the howling commandos, most of what they ate was no different than a soldier's rations - tinned food, bland and tasteless. 

Thus, for the first time, Steve's almost glad to be in the twenty-first century. Almost. He still misses people, and the pain of losing Bucky - that'll never heal. He visits Peggy sometimes, and he's cheered up for a while, but afterwards he's just even more depressed.

But food is a good thing, one good thing in a sea of - well, bad things. As he planned, he sent a message to Tony asking where he got that chocolate cake, and Tony's reply was mercifully quick.

 _A bakery,_ he'd texted, _about a block from you. Hard to miss, looks like a unicorn threw up on it. Why?_

 _No reason,_ Steve had sent back, and went to get ready. You wouldn't think a baseball cap and a jacket would be a functional disguise, but hey, the modern world is full of surprises. Steve gets changed out of his pyjamas and sets off.

+

Expensive, but worth it. That's what Steve tells himself as he leaves the bakery, the bell on the door jingling. 

Expensive indeed. Although Steve isn't poor anymore, it's still a challenge to buy anything more than ten dollars without feeling guilty. The cake was thirty dollars. There was the option to buy a single slice - five dollars - or the whole thing, and Steve chose the latter. After all, he knows that if he bought just one, he'd finish it off in a flash and be left craving more. Then he'd have to wait a whole week, perhaps two, before returning, so as not to seem greedy. 

At least buying the whole thing, he can pass it off as for a party. 

He rushes home, the cake in a tub, which in turn is in a paper bag, and almost falls into his apartment. It's a hot day, and he doesn't want it to melt. Yeah, that's it. Not that he's desperate to start eating. Of course not. 

He slips off his jacket and cap, still marvelling at the effectiveness of such a simple disguise, and takes the cake out of the bag. He considers getting a plate, but settles instead on eating straight from the tub. No sense in getting a clean plate dirty. Plus, he has self control. It's not like he's going to eat the entire thing. 

Steve settles down on the sofa, legs tucked up, and flicks the television on. Natasha showed him how to use the remote. In fact, Natasha taught him a lot about the modern world, and most of his knowledge comes from her. He smiles fondly and begins to eat. 

The first bite is as good as he remembers. 'Good' is an understatement. It's perfect. There's just the right amount of icing, icing made of melted chocolate, and the sponge is moist and springy. Steve moans around his mouthful, closing his eyes. He swallows and instantly takes another big bite, getting crumbs everywhere. If Bucky were here, he'd be furious. Steve's never been the neatest person. 

He finishes off the first slice, and pauses for a moment. Perhaps he should save the rest for later. Then again, he's not even near to being full yet, and his mouth is watering at the prospect of another piece.

So he does. Cuts off a healthy-size slice and demolishes it in a minute or so, ignoring the ache in his jaw from the constant chewing, just focusing on the rich taste. That's all that matters right now. 

He's so focused on eating, chomping through the thick cake like it's nothing, that he doesn't notice the growing fullness around his middle. Until, that is, he looks down to discover all but one slice of cake is gone - and it's all in his stomach. Steve feels the heat rush to his cheeks and he takes a deep breath, trying to stop the ache in his belly. 

That doesn't work, so he lays a hand over his unfamiliar round belly and rubs, pressing his hand in. It helps, a little, but suddenly all he can think of is Bucky. He wishes, with no small amount of shame, that it could be Bucky's hand instead of his own. Bucky rubbing out the fullness, Bucky telling him how stupid he was in the way he always did, in that affectionate tone. Bucky chastising him for leaving one slice, _c'mon Stevie, you could've finished it up._

Actually. 

Steve opens his eyes, staring down at the last slice. He _could_ finish it up. Maybe. He's always liked a challenge, even if he knows his belly doesn't agree with this one. He burps a little, surprising himself, but is glad to feel a small bit of extra room in his stomach. He can manage. 

So he does, picking up the cake and opening his mouth wide to take in as much as he can. He bites off about half the slice and chews with determination, his spare hand still rubbing. He forces himself to swallow and shoves the remainder of the slice in his mouth.

It takes a bit longer, and he wants to give up, but he eventually manages to gulp down the last bite. Steve lets out an exhausted sigh, dropping the empty tub and stretching out across the sofa. God, it hurts. He just ate a whole cake. He's not sure he quite believes it. An entire extremely rich chocolate cake, all in his belly. 

Steve closes his eyes, smirking a little in triumph. He swears he can feel his stomach churning, trying to digest all the food he just ate. He can certainly hear it. He continues to rub his belly, burping a few times. He's too full to even feel embarrassed, and besides, there's no one else here. Thank God. 

Perhaps he should do this again sometime. It's painful, but in a good way. And he'll admit it; seeing just how much he could eat, finding his limit, was possibly the most fun he's had in a long time. 

It doesn't take long for him to drift off into a pleasant sleep, his stomach gurgling, warm and full. It's a dreamless sleep, but he doesn't mind; most of his dreams turn into nightmares, nowadays. A break is nice, and heaven knows he needs one. 

How long he's out for, Steve can't guess. His belly is still round when he wakes, although it seems to be settling a little, and doesn't ache as much. He sits up a little, yawning, and glances over at the television. A baking show. Typical. 

+

Bucky is back. Beyond all odds, he's back. Steve has never felt such unbridled joy in his life, but there's a twinge of guilt at the back of his mind, working it's way to the front. Bucky is back, but he's different. He's - and Steve hates to admit it - broken. The boy Steve grew up with, the young man who was always there for him, he's gone. Bucky's nightmares are terrible, worse than any Steve's ever had, and often during the day Steve finds him clutching at him, burying his face into his shoulder. 

Steve is guilty because he's so happy but Bucky is the opposite. He knows Bucky is still very capable, and that he loves Steve, but happy? Steve wouldn't say so. And honestly, that's all he wants.

Bucky's here, but not really. He's been through severe trauma, dehumanized time and time again, and when he finally broke free, the world wanted him dead. That's enough to get anyone down, whoever they are. Steve also knows he's suffering from severe PTSD and depression, and, he suspects, anxiety. It's just not fair.

The pair of them are sitting on the sofa, Bucky playing a game on his tablet and Steve watching the television. He's not paying much attention, though, because he's thinking about Bucky. As always. How can you help someone who doesn't think they deserve help? Steve knows Bucky's reluctant to want things, and on the occasion that he asks for something, his body language is fearful. 

He thinks back to when he was first de-iced. He was depressed. His PTSD wasn't as bad as Bucky's - in part, because of Bucky, who often did the dirty work and most of the killing - but he still remembers his first flashback. It was terrifying. But he's sure he had some sort of coping technique, something that calmed him. He just can't remember. 

Suddenly his mind pings onto a happy memory. It was that time after Tony's party, when he - he blushes - ate an entire cake. Hm. Being so full helped take the edge off his mood, even if just for a few hours. He wonders if it would do the same for Bucky. The only problem there would be convincing him to eat. 

Steve had asked about it once, why Bucky always insists on eating the bare minimum. _You can have as much as you want, now, Buck,_ he'd said, _it's okay._

He squeezes his eyes shut as he recalls Bucky's reply. He'd looked at Steve, wide eyes full of shame. _But I'm a - a weapon. I shouldn't eat._

That was a year ago. Bucky still struggles with his identity, and the simple act of wanting things without feeling ashamed. Steve tries to understand. Perhaps now, further on in his recovery, he'll be open to the idea. Maybe if Steve joins in. Bucky can still only handle a dozen or so different meals, but he's getting better. 

Steve glances over at him. "Hey, Buck," he says, voice soft. "I was thinking. How about a big dinner tonight?" 

Bucky looks up, smiling a little. "Whatever you want, Steve."

Steve nods. "Do you want it? I don't mind what we do."

Bucky pauses, mouth slightly ajar, and then gives a quick nod. "I do."

+

Take-out was his first idea, but Bucky never was a fan of that, so he settles on cooking. He's rather good at it now; it happens, when you're alone with the internet and nothing to do. He started off with simple things, muffins and cookies and bars, but quickly progressed to full meals. He makes an especially delicious lasagne. 

Lasagne. That'll do, he supposes, and gets to work chopping vegetables. Definitely the worst part; takes forever. He uses soya meat instead of the real stuff, because it's healthy, harms less animals, and is cheaper. He was surprised to find it didn't taste much different, the first time he used it, and he likes to eat healthy sometimes, so it's a win all round. 

Steve doesn't add as many vegetables as usual, and grates extra cheese for on top. Not a personal choice, but this is for Bucky, and Bucky hates vegetables. Then comes the preparation. He lays down a sheet of pasta, pours a little of the cheese sauce on, adds half the 'meat' and vegetables, and repeats again. 

When all is done, he shoves it in the oven and goes back to Bucky.

+

"I thought we could eat in here tonight," Steve says, "if you want."

He's holding two plates, one on each hand, standing in the doorway to the living room. He's just served up the lasagne, and he's starving. He glances up at Bucky, who nods with some enthusiasm. He must be hungry, too. 

Steve smiles, hurrying over to Bucky and handing him his plate before sinking down into the sofa. He licks his lips and cuts off a neat square of lasagne. Bucky waits for a moment before doing the same, and Steve feels a rush of affection, watching him nibble at his first bite curiously. Steve hopes Bucky knows how cute he is. The thought of Bucky hating himself is unbearable. 

Steve pulls his gaze away and shoves his own forkfull into his mouth. As always, the flavours are intense, and it tastes amazing, if he does say so himself. He swallows and takes another bite. It's a large portion, even for him, but Bucky seems to be doing well. He's already eaten at least a quarter, and isn't showing signs of slowing. 

Steve eats some more and stifles a burp with his fist. Bucky glances over at him, and Steve's heart races when he sees that his cheeks are red. Just a little, but there's a definite glow to them. Steve shrugs it off and continues eating, feeling a familiar warmth settle in his belly.

The next time he snatches a glance at Bucky, Steve has to take a minute to compose himself. Bucky's plate is clean and he's leaning back in his seat, one hand over his belly. He looks over at Steve, pouting. "I'm so full," he whines.

Steve takes a deep breath and shrugs. "Nothin' I can do about that now," he says, trying to keep his eyes off Bucky's belly. It's not huge, not like Steve's had been with the cake, but there's a definite curve to it and he can't seem to look away. "Are you too full for desert? We've got ice cream. The good stuff."

Bucky hesitates, a small frown on his face. "I - I guess I could manage," he muses, tilting his head and pressing his hand into his belly, as if seeing if there's any more room. "What kind is it?"

"That one you love. Chocolate chip brownie or something."

Bucky's eyes light up. "In that case, sure," he says, "but only a little. You having any?"

Steve shakes his head. "Not much of an ice cream fan myself. I'll get you some."

He all but leaps up, grabbing Bucky's empty plate as well as his own, and rushes into the kitchen. He dumps the plates on the counter and yanks the freezer door open. The rush of cool air is a relief, and he waits for a few moments before searching around for the ice cream.

His mind keeps going back to Bucky, no matter how hard he tries. Namely his belly, him moaning about how full be was. God, what is wrong with him? He should not find that hot. At all. But he does, and he feels more than a little bad for it. He forces himself to think of other things. Puppies. Kittens. Bunnies. 

Bucky. 

He rolls his eyes, huffing as he looks for a bowl. Great. There are none. Now what's he supposed to do? He'll have to - ugh, God - give him the whole tub, and let him have as much as he wants. Steve knows this isn't going to help his situation, but he doesn't want to disappoint Bucky by giving him nothing. So Steve takes a deep breath, grabs a spoon, and hurries back into the living room.

"Uh," he begins, handing Bucky the ice cream. "There were no spoons. I mean bowls. No bowls. Sorry."

Bucky smirks up at him, raising an eyebrow. "What's got you so flustered? Admit it, you wanna see me eat the entire thing. You think I need to eat more, don't you?"

There's a joking tone to Bucky's voice, but Steve knows his cheeks are red. He crosses his arms. "I do not! You - you're fine. I mean, if you wanted to, I wouldn't stop you, but I don't-"

"Steve." Bucky cuts him off. "Chill."

Steve nods, flopping back down next to Bucky and keeping his eyes fixed on the television. He's still keenly aware, however, of Bucky peeling off the lid, pausing to let out a soft burp. 

Steve holds his breath.

Bucky begins to eat. 

Steve refuses to look. 

He can't. 

He lasts for about three minutes before it gets too much.

He glances over at Bucky, hoping to just sneak a peek without him noticing. But Bucky notices everything, and when he sees Steve looking at his stomach, he lets out a loud sigh. Steve jolts up, meeting his eyes. 

"Are you okay, Buck?" he asks, smiling a little. 

"I'm fine. What's up with you? You seem tense," Bucky replies, licking his spoon. Steve hangs his head. There's no point lying. Besides, he hates lying to Bucky, and he can usually tell, too. He can't bring himself to look up, though.

"It's you - your belly, I guess? Or you - you eating. I don't know. I kinda want you to be full, really full, and just - maybe let me rub your belly. It's weird," he mumbles. 

To his surprise, Bucky snorts. "S'not that weird. You wanna rub my belly? Go ahead, I don't care. Are you tryin' to say you find this-" he gestures to his now much larger middle- "hot?" 

Steve nods shamefully, though he's glad Bucky didn't freak out like he thought he would. 

Bucky laughs. It's a rare thing nowadays - before the war, he used to laugh a lot, at everything - and Steve looks up for the first time. Bucky meets his eyes. 

"Stevie. It's fine. I don't care. I mean, everyone's into some sorta weird shit, right?"

"I guess," Steve murmurs, smiling. 

Bucky takes a big scoop of ice cream, shoving it into his mouth and staring at Steve pointedly. "About that belly rub," he says. "I can't stop eatin' this."

Steve nods, reaching out with a shaking hand. He pulls up Bucky's shirt, cautious. When he first got back, Bucky would freak out whenever anyone touched him. He's a lot better now, but there are still times - times when Steve can't help being a little nervous. 

"I'm not gonna bite," Bucky grumbles, as if reading his mind. 

Steve gently lays his hand on Bucky's stomach, letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. His skin is warm beneath his hand, and Steve can feel how full he is. He glances up at Bucky, who nods, shovelling more ice cream. He must've eaten half the tub by now.  
Steve rubs his hand down Bucky's round belly, keeping his touch light. He brings his hand back up and begins to rub small circles, slow and soft. When he looks up at Bucky, he's still eating, but his eyes are half-closed. Steve smiles, resting his head on Bucky's shoulder and continuing to rub.

A few moments later, Bucky sets the tub down on the arm of the sofa and takes a deep breath. Steve can see his cheeks are flushed, and he frowns.

"How much did you eat?"

Bucky looks at him pitifully. "All of it."

"Mistake?"

"Hm. Yeah. Can I lay down?"

"Sure," Steve says weakly, and moves over. Bucky gives a brief smile and lays down, resting his head in Steve's lap. Steve doesn't dare to move; this is the closest Bucky's been to him in a long time. Huh. Being full really made him let his guard down.

He lays a shaking hand on Bucky's belly, as warm and full as ever. It's so big, huge even, like he's swallowed a ball. Steve bites his lip. "Does it hurt?" 

He still remembers that day with the cake, the first time he'd ever been entirely full, to the point that he couldn't eat another bite. It had hurt, but in a good way. He wonders if Bucky feels the same. He certainly seems content, at least. 

 

Bucky makes a face. "Kinda, I guess. Aches like hell, but - being this full - it's nice," he murmurs. 

He glances up at Steve, then pats his stomach. "Could you...keep rubbing? I like it."

Steve nods eagerly, getting back to work. Bucky's belly is firm and almost hot, and when Steve presses a little harder, he burps. Steve can feel his cheeks go even more red, but he doesn't stop, rubbing smaller, slow circles into his skin. Bucky's stomach gurgles, and he glares down at it. "Shut up."

Steve chuckles, though he feels a little faint. "'S your own fault, Buck."

Bucky scowls up at him, but Steve just beams, scooping Bucky up into his arms and cradling his head. He leans down and plants a gentle kiss on his forehead, light and soft and full of love. 

"So," he says, "how was your day?"

Bucky sticks out his lip. "Average. Sam's advice - seems to be helpin'."

Steve nods. Sam's been a big help with Bucky's recovery, and the two became friends almost right away. "No flashbacks?"

Bucky smiles. "Not today."

"That's good. I swear I'll try to be at home more, Buck, I will. I know you can look after yourself, but I - I do worry sometimes." Steve sighs. When he first got Bucky back, he was with him constantly. But later, when the demands of his job got too much to ignore, he spent less and less time at home. Bucky swore right and left that he was fine, he didn't mind, but Steve can't get rid of that nagging guilt. He should be with Bucky. He - he-

"Stevie, you okay? You've stopped rubbing."

Steve looks down at the sound of Bucky's voice, surprised. He hadn't realised he'd been daydreaming. He nods, getting back to rubbing Bucky's stomach, which seems to be settling a little. It still gurgles occasionally, and Bucky hiccups now and then, making Steve jump.

"Can - can we do this again, maybe?" asks Bucky, meeting Steve's gaze. Steve frowns, though his heart is racing. This is more than he could've hoped for; Bucky not only enjoying it, but wanting to do it again. Steve grins. 

"Of course. Whenever you want." He pauses. "Actually, there's this bakery - not far from here - that makes an incredible chocolate cake. We could get that, sometime."

Bucky nods, closing his eyes. Steve smiles, letting out a contented sigh. Bucky's here. He's here, safe, and Steve's never going to lose him again.


End file.
